Siren Song
by David N. Brown
Summary: Pat Vs. THE SONG!
1. Chapter 1

**This is a two-part story, representing ideas I came up with as possible scenes for a longer story. I decided the material was promising enough for a "one shot" style treatment. I also felt that "Pat's song" was something I could relate to my own and other people's experiences with being stressed by completely random things, and have drawn on some of that for a little extra complexity.**

Tiffany stormed down the street, dodging punk kids in Halloween costumes. She had had high hopes for the date with Pat, even hopes that he would go home with her. So, she had humored him with the offer to help him get in touch with Nikki, and then turned it into a set-up to tell him the story of her affair with her manager. The whole point, of course, had been to show him how stupid and pathetic it was to keep trying to reunite with a wife who didn't want him back when he had a standing offer from an attractive and adventurous woman who was ready, willing and _waiting_. And what had happened? He wanted to talk about what to say in the letter!

Pat caught up with Tiffany as she approached a group of college kids, many in costume. It was one of the rougher parts of town, well after 9 PM, on Halloween to boot. He was a little nervous walking here himself; why, he kept getting the feeling that someone was following him now. He was very worried about what might happen to Tiffany if she ran into the wrong people.

Pat caught up to Tiffany and started to blurt, asking to explain without keeping track of what he was saying himself. Then she lashed back, calling him names he was sure he deserved, shaking him by the collar. Then before he knew it, she was shouting: "He's harassing me! He's harassing me!"

Suddenly, Pat was surrounded by punk kids dressed in Halloween costumes or just like punk kids, giving him lecturing speeches or just judging glares. He felt like he was in a scene out of _Scarlet Letter_, with the denizens of Jabba's palace in place of the Puritans. His left temple began to itch. Then he saw something that really worried him: That neighbor kid who kept coming by the house was standing behind him, with a camera raised. He had been followed. Several more kids who obviously knew him were standing around, pointing and laughing- at him. He wanted to pound his temple with the palm of his hand. He settled for running a hand through his hair.

As if it wasn't all bad enough, suddenly Officer Keogh pulled up. At least the kids backed up, but the friends of the neighbor kids were smiling wider. One nudged the neighbor kid, and raised a boombox. The neighbor kid frowned, and it looked like he tried to keep his friend from pushing the button, but it was much too little much too late. From the boombox blared- _the Song_.

Pat stepped forward. His forehead was itching intensely. Officer Keogh reached for his arm, saying something that was no more than a buzz in Pat's ears. The only thing in his mind was The Song... and the pictures... and then, unexpectedly, Tiffany's voice.

"It's a song," she said. She gripped his shoulders and turned him around, angling him away from the camera. "It's just a song. You can't let it be a monster. Just tune it out. There is no song." He shook his head. Officer Keogh was approaching the kids, pointing and questioning, but obviously making no headway. Tears were rising in his eyes, and his left temple felt like it was under attack by a swarm of fire ants. Tiffany pressed her hands to the side of his face.

"Okay, okay, then, let's try something else. You know the story of the Sirens? Yeah? Good, then do you know the story of how the Argonauts kept the Sirens from luring them onto those rocks? They hired Orpheus, the greatest singer who ever lived, and when Orpheus sang his best song, it was so beautiful that the sailors didn't even notice the Sirens' song. So if that song is your Siren, find yourself an Orpheus. Think of a happy song, a sweet song, even a silly song, think of it so hard it's like you're hearing it and nothing else. Can you do that?"

He nodded. He was already doing it. It seemed there was no Song to be heard, even before Officer Keogh pointed to the pipe peeking out of the pocket of the punk with the boombox and he and most of his peers all ran like hell. But there was no music that rose in its place, unless it was the sound of Tiffany's voice.

Officer Keogh dispersed the crowd, and Tiffany walked away after he hit on her. As Pat turned to walk home, he was met by the neighbor kid. "I'm sorry," said the kid. "My friends are jerks. I guess they really aren't my friends."

"I'll walk home with you," Pat said. They did, and Pat could see Officer Keogh discretely trailing him and the punks discretely steering clear. They reached the kid's house first, and Pat kept walking without a word.

"Wait," said the kid. Pat looked back. The kid held up his camera and pulled out the video card. Then he dropped it on the ground and crushed it under foot. Pat gave a nod, and then walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is based on a deleted scene from the movie, as well as elements of the novel. For the record, I have deliberately omitted identifying "The Song" in large part because the book and scenes shot for the movie don't agree on what it is. I suggest filling in whatever song is your personal "kryptonite", and go along with it. If I had to choose, it would be anything by Michael Jackson. I never disliked Michael Jackson, but I never cared to listen to his music when it was new, so I was VERY displeased when I tried going back to the oldies stations I DID grow up listening to and discovered they were playing Michael Jackson.**

"For today's practice, we're going to try improvising," Tiffany said. She walked to the edge of the dance floor and bent over an ipod boombox. "I'll play a song, and we're going to move to it, move with what you're feeling."

"You're not going to play that Song, are you?" said Pat.

"That would be evil. Of course I wouldn't do that," Tiffany said. "Or would I?" She hit play.

Pat physically reeled at the sound. His temple was on fire, and there was a pain in his belly like his guts were tying themselves in knots. "I haven't given up on you, Pat," Tiffany said. "I've seen you fight this thing, and I believe you can beat it. You can beat it by showing me how you feel."

"I feel like smashing that boombox to pieces over your head," Pat said. "Does that count as a feeling?"

Pat dropped to his knees, and Tiffany leaned down to look into his eyes. "That's your anger. That's the monster," she said. "It's here, it's real, but I'm here too, I'm here for you, Pat, and we're going to fight it together! We're going to starve it, corner it and kill it! So what's feeding the monster, Pat? What is it that makes you feel this way?"

He raised his hand to his temple, but pulled back. "I remember," he said. "I did a bad thing, when I caught Nikki cheating on me. But I don't remember doing it, except when I hear this song. Oh god... it was horrible. I was horrible. I was an animal."

"Okay, we're getting somewhere," Tiffany said. "We all do things we want to forget. But sometimes we need to remember, and we need to talk about it. It's like when I told you about losing my job, and Tommy. So why not try talking to me about it?"

Pat stood up. He seemed oddly calm, almost hypnotized. "I'll show you," he said. Tiffany's eyes widened as he steered her toward the wall. "So, I catch Nikki in the shower with the history teacher, he says, `I think you should go.' And I say, `You think I should go? Where do you think you're going, Mr. Tenured Professor? You're going _nowhere_...'"

His hands were at Tiffany's neck, though he applied no pressure. "I got my hands all the way around and squeezed. I didn't even do it hard; he was so scrawny, I didn't have to. Then I picked him up, like this." She let out a gasp as he lifted her by the shoulders and pressed her to the wall. "Then I did choke him hard, only with one hand, and with the other..."

He continued to demonstrate, and Tiffany compliantly followed his pantomime, until she ended up on her back in the doorway of the changing room with Pat straddling her. "I think he's unconscious," he said. "Nikki's screaming. I don't care, until she shouts my name, and I turn around." He snatched up the boombox. Tiffany retreated a few steps as he advanced toward her. "Here. Take it."

Tiffany accepted it nervously, cradling it close to her. "So I turn around, and there's Nikki..." He gripped the boombox to guide Tiffany's hands into position. "She's holding the boombox over her head like a cave woman with a rock. And I'm looking her over, because I haven't really looked at her in a while, and the thing that comes into my mind is, `Damn, she's hot! How long has it been since she looked this hot?' So I reach for her, and I start to tell her everything's going to be okay. And then-"

He jerked the boombox right out of Tiffany's hands and banged it against his head as he retreated to the spot he had marked as the shower. "Bam, bam and BAM Nikki hits me and she keeps hitting me. She busts the boombox right over my head, there are actual pieces falling off, and it's a big boombox. I fall in the tub and hit my head on the faucet on the way down... I guess that's where I got this scar." Tiffany rushed to him as he dropped to the floor. He reached up and returned the boombox to her trembling hands and then leaned back against the wall, pressing his hand to his temple.

"Damn. Nikki hit me. Never woulda thought she'd do that. She always says she's a pacifist, she even used to tell me I shouldn't go to the Eagles games because it's too violent..." He let himself slump. "So I'm blacking out, I'm pretty sure I'm dying. Of course the music is off, but I can still hear the song in my head. Then right before I go out, I look at Nikki, and say `I love you', or at least I'm trying to. Then she drops what's left of the boombox... Damn, I can't believe little Nikki did that... and she says, `You're an animal, Pat. I _never_ loved you.'"

He lolled his head back and closed his eyes. Tiffany reached for him, keeping the boombox under one arm. Then, just when she touched him, his eyes snapped open just like in a slasher movie. She jumped back, gripping the boombox with both hands. "What are you doing?" Pat said. "Were we doing something?"

"No, just taking a break," Tiffany said. "I guess you nodded off."

Pat looked down at the boombox. Only then did Tiffany realize THE SONG was still playing. "Hey," he said, "what's that song? It sounds like it should be familiar..."

"This song?" Tiffany said. "This song is _the __**worst song **__**ever**_. I hate this song!" Pat gaped as she raised the boombox over her head and smashed it against the wall. The plastic shell caved in like an egg and the ipod ejected from the dock. "And I hate this knockoff POS excuse for a birthday present too! Ronnie's worth half a mil, Von, the least you can do is buy name brand!" Tiffany kept pounding the boombox against the wall until she cut her hand on the fractured shell.

"Jesus, you're bleeding," Pat said. He ran to get her ointment and bandages. "Seriously, I think maybe you have an anger management problem."

"That's right," Tiffany said. "Guess we do have something in common."

"No way," Pat said. "There's no way I would ever do something _that_ crazy."

"Yeah, that's me, crazy Tiffany," Tiffany said. "Never know what crazy thing I'm gonna do next. That must be why I keep hanging out with you."


End file.
